Salvaged

Yesterday Mike and I embarked on a new mission: The Declutterization of the Comfoltey House.

We decided to start with our closet, mostly because it is smaller than an entire room and we figured it wouldn't take all day. We came out with a whole heap of clothes to donate to Goodwill, as well as a pile of other random don't-needs.

At one point, the Carla in me became very bold and just started chucking things in the trash. That was the point at which I found my box of ticket stubs. Yes. Basically every movie I've seen since I was 12, plus concerts stubs and even an old dance card.

I opened the box and dumped the contents in the trash. Woohoo! I said, "I did it! I threw away all of my ticket stubs! Take that, box!" (complete with little victory jig and rude gesture toward aforementioned garbage box).

But jump back about 37 seconds to the part where I mistakenly pointed out a ticket stub from a John Mayer concert Mike took me to when we were first dating.

Mike gave me this look. I knew what the look meant. So I walked away and started pulling something out from under the bed.

Assuming sufficient time had passed, I went back to the garbage box where I was attacked by Mike's hoarding ways.

Mike (staring at the box): "Hmmm...."
Me: "What?"
Mike: "That's a lot of memories."
Me: "Or paper."
Mike: "It's a tiny little box."
Me: "Are you trying to talk me into keeping them?"
Mike: "I'm just saying, it's a tiny box..."
Me: "I already threw them away."
Mike: "But they are on the top, you could still get them out."

Mike proceeded to harass me for the next hour or so, randomly spouting off things like, "Did you think about those stubs any more?" and "It's just a tiny box. It doesn't take up space." He eventually dropped all subtlety and just asked me, "Did you pull those stubs out of the trash yet?" But I hadn't, so I said, "Nope."

The next thing I knew, there I was salvaging my damn ticket stubs from the trash box.

Good thing it's such a tiny box.